


Counter Reserve

by nutella4ever



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, M/M, Minor Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Minor Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, Pining, Shy Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 17:05:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2475797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutella4ever/pseuds/nutella4ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Shitttt…” Stiles groans, standing in the counter reserve section of the library, fingers clutched in the flyaway strands of his unwashed hair. Stiles needed this particular book for his exam, but he hadn’t bought it at the start of the semester, the thing cost a hundred and thirty buck for fuck’s sake. He’d already been up to Mythology section on the first floor, but there were no copies on the shelf. And now the one copy of the book that couldn’t be checked out of the library was missing from counter reserve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counter Reserve

“Shitttt…” Stiles groans, standing in the counter reserve section of the library, fingers clutched in the flyaway strands of his unwashed hair. It was 8pm on a Friday and Stiles has a huge Mythology exam on Monday. He’d have been in the library earlier but he had to help Scott run all over town preparing a big romantic gesture for his girlfriend, Kira. Damn Scott and his lack of Christmas exams.

 

Stiles _needed_ this particular book for his exam, but he hadn’t bought it at the start of the semester, the thing cost a hundred and thirty buck for fuck’s sake. When he’d told Erica, she’d just laughed at him and told him that he should have done nursing; none of her books cost more than fifty dollars. And there were _always plenty of copies in the library._

He’d already been up to Mythology section on the first floor, but there were no copies on the shelf. And now the one copy of the book that couldn’t be checked out of the library was missing from counter reserve.

 

 After a few minutes of agonising over whether he should give up and go to live in the forest in a hippie commune, or walk around to see if there was an unsupervised copy of the book left anywhere, Stiles took a deep breath, made a decision, snatched his bag up from where it has been resting at his feet, and stalked up to the first floor like a man on a mission. Stiles hadn’t wanted to stoop to this level, but desperate times and all that.  If he spotted a copy of the book left anywhere, it was _his_ and no one could say shit about it.

 

The library was quiet, students scattered here and there, hunched over books reading or writing silently. There weren’t any windows in this section and the warm yellow lighting coupled with the scent of old books did something to calm Stiles’ frayed nerves. He loved the library, the chairs were comfortable and the desks were much larger than the postage stamp sized one in his dorm room. He usually felt there was a sense of camaraderie to be found in here, even if no one spoke to each other, a feeling of similar mentality. Today however, Stiles felt at odds with the atmosphere of calm in the place, his stomach was in too many knots. It didn’t help that Prof. Deaton had been extremely vague on the content of the exam, the only thing he’d made clear that it would be nigh impossible to pass without _this fucking book._

 

Stiles weaved between the stacks, eyeballing every studying student, trying to find someone with the book. It had to be here _somewhere._

Approaching the back wall, where there was a cut-away section in the wall to make a little cubby with two desks in it, Stiles spotted a broad back clad in a tight wine-coloured shirt that could only belong to one Derek Hale. And Stiles would have to approach him and ask to share because _of course_ Derek Hale would have the one available copy of the one book Stiles needed to not fail out of college.

 

Stiles once again gave serious thought to the hippie commune idea. Derek Hale was the grouchiest, grumpiest, surliest, _hottest_ person Stiles had ever clapped eyes on. He’d probably sooner crush Stiles under the heel of one of his leather boots than share space with him. He was in the same Mythology lecture as Stiles as well as his Ancient Languages tutorial group, yet the two had never spoken. In fact, Stiles had never seen him speak to anyone. He sat at the front of the lecture theatre, arriving and leaving before everyone else. If he was a mature student, he wasn’t as annoying as some other that Stiles had heard of, asking stupid questions and driving everyone up the wall. No, Derek Hale was dark and silent, everything about him from his leather jacket, to his chiselled jaw and amazing eyebrows was extremely attractive and utterly intimidating at the same time. Stiles had never seen anyone dare approach him, even Lydia Martin, badass goddess that she was.

 

Stiles took another deep breath and screwed his courage to the sticking place. Squaring his shoulders he walked forward and tapped Hale’s shoulder. There was no reaction as first, but slowly Derek turned back, scowl deepening as he caught sight of Stiles. A quirking of a heavy eyebrow was all the acknowledgment that Stiles received. So Stiles did what Stiles did best. He babbled.

 

“”Heyyy! I… uh… see that you’re studying for Prof. Deaton’s test too! Which is great! I mean good for you. But thing is… uh… there’s only one copy of that book in the library and you have it now obviously but I kind of really need to look at it or I’m going to fail out of college and be forced to live in a cave somewhere and die of tuberculosis or something…” Stiles trailed off in the face of Derek Hale’s mighty glare.

 

“I guess that’s probably a no to sharing then, huh? I’ll be… going then, I guess?” Stiles felt like he probably looked like the most startled deer in history right now, all wide eyes and long spindly legs. He’d just begun to take a step backwards, when Hale sighed angrily (how did he do that?!) and turned his whole body towards Stiles, nodding towards the chair parked at the desk behind him, and starting to shove his stuff towards the far end of his own desk with his forearm.

 

“Pull that chair over. I hope you read quickly, I don’t want to have to wait for you before turning  the page, and if you try to eat anything I’ll eat you, got it?” Derek’s voice wasn’t as deep and gruff and Stiles would have expected, there wasn’t even a growl in it. His voice was nearly even soft, definitely not the voice of someone likely to rip someone’s legs off simply for talking to him. And yet he wasn’t charismatic enough tobe a serial killer like Ted Bundy.

 

 First impression amending itself, even as he scrambled to obey, Stiles dragged the other chair over and slotted it in beside Derek’s, who had budged himself over to make room.

 

“Thanks, man! Wow, you have no idea how much I appreciate this. I won’t slow you down, promise! How serious were you about the snacking rule though, because I have some amazing brownies in my bag that I got from that place around the corner from campus, and I would totally share them with you in exchange for this book-sharing thing we’ve got going on… But I guess you don’t have a sweet tooth if the way you’re looking at me right now is any clue…?”

 

Surprisingly enough, the look Derek was levelling at him wasn’t one of rage, rather one of bemusement. Looked like murder wasn’t in Stiles’ future just yet.

 

“Their cookies are good,” was the reply. Derek was still scowling slightly, but in a way that suggested that he felt awkward, rather than that he wanted Stiles to crawl away and die in a hole.

 

Stiles beamed. Derek’s scowl deepened.

 

* * *

 

 

“So we studied together for hours, and Derek even fetched us coffee to have with our brownies. He’s not half as scary as he seems, he thinks all the ridiculous names are funny and hard to remember too!”

 

“Stiles no one can remember those names.” Erica was unimpressed. “And Sourface is only human. Wait, did you say his real name is Derek?”

 

Erica sat up where she’s been sprawled on the floor of her room. She squinted at Stiles where he was starfished on her bed. Stiles tipped is head back over the edge to peer back at her. It was late on Saturday evening, and the only light in the room was coming from the muted television that belonged to Erica’s roommate. They would have been at one party or another, but Stiles had spent the day studying with Derek in the library again, and Erica had a shift at the hospital starting at 07.30 on Sunday morning. So they’d stayed in eating tortilla chips and watching MTV until Stiles had started to prattle about how nice Derek actually was, even if he still scowled a lot.

 

“Yeah,” Stiles said. “Derek Hale? You don’t know him, do you?”

 

“Hell yeah, I do!” Erica laughed. “He’s my friend Cora’s big brother, and he’s friends with Boyd. I’ve only met him once, but I could have told you he’s a sweetheart! If I’d known the famous “Sourface” you’d mentioned was actually Derek Hale I’d have made you be friends with him sooner! Oh my God, you should totally double date with me and Boyd!”

 

Stiles gaped at her. “What?” he spluttered. “Date?! I only spoke to the guy for the first time yesterday! And have you forgotten that he’s hot like lava and I’m Bambi?! Never in a million years!”

Erica smirked slyly at him. Stiles’ stomach sank. That was her ‘I know something you don’t’ face and it never ever boded well for Stiles.

 

“Maybe not a date straight away then,” Erica conceded. “But it’s my last day of placement tomorrow, and Boyd and Isaac are having a party at their place next weekend and I think you’ll find that Derek is much more talkative when he’s drunk.”

 

 She had that evil glint in her eye.  Stiles was fucked.

 

* * *

 

The following Saturday found Stiles found in Boyd and Isaac’s apartment, nursing a solo cup of… something, he couldn’t really taste it anymore,  happily drunk while surrounded by a horde of happy drunk people. He was laughing merrily at nothing while making his way towards the kitchen when he caught sight of Derek, and _damn_ he looked hot. He was wearing boots and tight black jeans like he always did, but instead of his usual Henley he was wearing a tight white tank top, and all that smooth tanned skin on show was making Stiles lightheaded. He doubled his efforts to reach to kitchen sink, and a cup of nice cool water. He had a _thirst._

He was just finished gulping from the tap when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned, wiping his mouth, to find Derek standing behind him, looking awkward. They hadn’t seen each other since Monday’s exam when Derek had given him a stiff nod at the end of the two hours, and disappeared without a word. Stiles had told himself that he wasn’t disappointed, but the truth was that he’d _liked_ studying with Derek, sharing food with him, talking to him.

 

And now Derek was here, and holy shit was that a _smile?!_ It _was_ , and it was tiny, and shy, and _adorable._ Derek, Sourface, Hottie Hale, was _adorable._ Yep, Stiles was pretty drunk.

 

“Erica said you’d be here,” Derek was saying. He looked at a bit shifty, fascinated by his shoes and Stiles’ left shoulder in turn.

 

Stiles blinked owlishly at him. “She did? Oh. Well, not that it matters. I mean, I thought you wouldn’t want to talk to me again.”

 

Derek’s snapped up to finally look him in the eye. He looked startled, his pupils dilated, and Stiles realised that Derek might not be entirely sober either.

 

“I thought you wouldn’t want to speak to _me_ again. I mean…” He trailed off, and they stood there in awkward, confused silence for a few moments, jostled by the drunk students around them, before Erica popped into existence beside them, like the most sarcastic fairy godmother to ever exist or some shit.

 

She sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes and flipping her mass of blonde curls over her shoulder, before turning to Stiles.

 

“I’ve never known you to be speechless, Stilinski, or “Moleface” as Derek used to call you. Apparently you get quite into spirited debates on homoeroticism in old legends in Mythology, and Derek admires someone who can use their words. And as for you,” Erica says, turning to Derek and poking his fantastic chest with a finger. “Stiles thinks you’re hot like the sun and also, coincidentally, that the sun shines out of your ass. He’s been emo all week thinking that you’ll never speak to him again. So for fuck’s sake boys,” she says, stepping back and glaring at both of them. “Get your shit together and bone like your lives depend on it.” She winks and sashays away to where Boyd is waiting for her with a look of exasperated fondness on his face.

 

Stiles and Derek gape after her, and then turn slowly to each other. It seems like the room is suddenly far away; no one bumps into them, and the music and noise fades to a low hum, background noise to the sound of Stiles’ pounding heart. He’s sure that he must be blushing furiously right now, but Derek’s ears are equally pink, and while he looks startled, he doesn’t look angry that Stiles has apparently been pining after him for the better part of a week.

 

Derek ducks his head for a second, and when he looks up again he’s smiling properly and he’s _beautiful._ He appears to take a breath and then says “Do you want to get out of here?”

 

Stiles nods dumbly, unable to use his mouth for more than grinning back.

 

They leave. Stiles was right. Stiles is _fucked._

**Author's Note:**

> First fic for Teen Wolf, sorry if it's crap. Please feel free to point out typos, I'm half asleep. Any feedback is welcome ^-^
> 
> I'll work out how to make this a link later but for now, my tumblr is the-tallest-lesbian-ever.tumblr.com


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